A Dance, Milady?
by LadyHaddock
Summary: "Hiccup," Astrid grinned, wrapping her arms over the pair encircling her waist. "Please tell me you didn't set a man on fire just to stop him from groping me."


**A DANCE, MILADY?**

i.

Astrid hated inter-village ceremonies. Fancy dress-ups, lack of weaponry, mingling with pompous nobles from foreign lands. And the dancing - gods, she hated the dancing. So naturally, when Chief Dagur the Deranged of Berserker Island came to visit in honor of his late father, her insides melted with dread.

It wasn't that she abhorred the jigs themselves. In secret she _loved_ all the tripping and slipping and twirling and swaying. The problem was… _her._ Astrid acknowledged she was pretty, and – bless her – she knew that was an understatement. Fancy dresses were an added curse that drew pompous nobles like prey to a Death Song's melody and had no axe sheath in case their limbs wandered too near.

The Berserker boys would not leave her alone. They swarmed her as if she were the only maiden her age on Berk (which was debatable really, considering fish-odored Ruffnut Thorston covered in feast spillings). Astrid had concluded they were all masochistic morons; she had already decked four boys tonight and it seemed they were practically lining up for the chance.

Then, in some twisted blague from the gods, she had ended up in the arms of Dagur the Deranged himself. Not that the lunatic cared for "the wooing of fair maidens" as Tuffnut had dubbed it; his dragon-wrangling obsession needed feeding and he'd recently heard the rumors about Berk – she just happened to be the first discernible girl in on the secret.

Astrid would have decked him too, but with his maniacal laugh exploding her eardrum and drool dangling balefully close to her collarbone, Dagur's grip was too strong to escape. Oh, how she longed for her axe. She'd happily take ten Snotlouts over this.

Leaning back to avoid the dribble about to fall from his chin, she met the forest green eyes of one Hiccup Haddock. As if on cue, the screech of a Night Fury resounded in the distance and Dagur let go of her like a heated coal.

He stuck an accusing, burly finger at her rescuer, "I knew it! I _knew_ you were hiding one!" and he was out of the hall to go dragon-wrangling before anyone could say another word.

"A dance, milady?" Hiccup held out his hand, emerald orbs sparking with verve.

Blatantly aware of the attention they had attracted, Astrid slipped her hand into his. He shyly lay his other on the small of her back – reaching up for she was a bit taller – and they both blushed. As the lutes played on and the rest of the hall diverted their eyes, it didn't surprise her to discover yet another of Hiccup's talents beyond dragon training.

His guiding was good, peg-leg and all. Astrid took two steps forward, Hiccup took two steps back. They came together and her heart fluttered.

"So, Dagur the Deranged," he smirked, "Never saw him as _your_ kind of dance partner."

She rolled her eyes. "What in nine realms could possibly give you _that_ idea?"

"Too psychotic. Unpredictable."

"That doesn't rule out other aspects of character."

"Oh, I can name a few more. Vain, indecent, egotistical… Much more fitting for a clobber."

Astrid grinned, shooting a glance at three of her red-cheeked hobblers sulking across the hall (her own flushing a similar shade at the thought of Hiccup having watched their dances). "You missed one."

Bouncing on the tip of his toe, he searched the crowd over her shoulder for the fourth boy. Unsuccessful, he shrugged, "Too muscular?"

A chuckle escaped her. "Well that rules out practically everyone in the room."

(And _him in_.)

Hiccup donned a quizzical expression, clearly akin to her trail of thought. She wasn't going to give it to him, not in words anyway.

Taking a wider step toward him on the next turn and tightening her grip on his hand ever slightly, Astrid decided to humor him instead.

"He's going to kill you, you know."

* * *

ii.

The Meatheads were no discreet bunch. Ten minutes into the feast and the trio at Astrid's table were already boasting their wooing plans for the evening; plans that unfortunately all involved _her_. The only perk she could find in the situation was the look of utter jealousy that had graced Hiccup's face as he passed them by. It was adorable (especially with the way he thrust a hand into his wild locks and shot her an innocent grin as their eyes connected).

When her first partner excused himself to use the privy and did not return, Astrid counted herself lucky.

When her second partner excused himself for the privy mid-way through their dance – the first still not having returned from said privy – and the third yakked his dinner on the spot where her foot had been a fraction of a second ago (thank Odin for her training), a grim suspicion began to form in Astrid's mind.

"Woah," she heard Tuffnut remark a short distance away, _"Astrid's_ been ditched _twice_ and now she's made a guy vomit. That's gotta be a record."

His twin snickered loudly and the shieldmaiden sighed, about to join them when a pair of adoring emerald eyes appeared before her.

"I think you look beautiful, if it's any consolation."

Six men had told her that tonight, and Snotlout had said it thrice before the ceremony even started. But when Hiccup Haddock's lips delivered those words Astrid felt like the most beautiful, remarkable and formidable woman in the archipelago.

He took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers, and she tried to ignore the little jolt in her heart-rate (his hands were larger, surer, he was taller, and it felt so _right_). "Aren't you supposed to be dancing with Chief Mogadon's daughter?" she asked.

"Cara the Clumsy?" Hiccup glanced down at his prosthetic. "I think I stood on her feet a few too many times, she seemed a bit put off."

Astrid grinned up at him, doubting the girl's clumsiness had anything to do with it. "I ought to be careful then."

"On the contrary, milady. I saw your display of footwork against Sigurd's dinner earlier."

Neither's footwork was a problem.

Hiccup spun and grabbed her, twirling her in. He dipped her and pulled her back, frazzling her senses. When the fiddles slowed, she wound her arms around his neck.

"Hiccup?"

"Yes, Astrid?"

"If you're so determined to poison my partners, then that means the only person I'm left to dance with is you."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

He spun her in again, then wrapped her in his arms, his front to her back, and Astrid tried not to look too comfortable.

* * *

iii.

Astrid was uneasy. She looked stunning in her mother's prized dress and she hated it. The cut was too low for her taste and it was much too tight around the stomach and hip area; it was attracting far too much attention.

The last jerk who'd grabbed her butt was down for the count, but Kalf Stormheart boasted a brawn beyond the typical Viking with an outrageous Mongrel tribe arrogance to match. A _mongrel_ was exactly what he was, snubbing her protests, invading her space with his foul breath, running his filthy hands down her waist–

That was, until his cloak erupted. Yak hide sparking a blazing orange, he shrieked and toppled ungracefully into the couple beside them. Astrid stumbled backwards, his grotty hands releasing their grasp at last and a softer pair catching her from behind.

Recovering at the familiar, tender touch encircling her abdomen, she leaned into it, watching the crowd dodge the man-shaped inferno sweeping the hall. "Hiccup," she grinned, wrapping her arms over his, "Please tell me you didn't set a man on fire just to stop him from groping me."

Hiccup leaned in over her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear, "I would never do such a thing."

Her hand slid past his elbow toward his pocket and emerged with a vial of sloppy green fluid. _Nightmare gel._ She twisted around to face him. "So this just _happened_ to end up in your ceremonial tunic?"

"It was a celebratory gift," he shrugged innocently, taking the flask and weaving his fingers in its place. They stepped into a rhythm at the dulcimer's whirl.

"Your generosity is staggering," Astrid smirked.

"It's nowhere near what he deserved." Bitterness seeped through the jest this time, and Hiccup lightly squeezed her fingers and strengthened his hold on her waist.

He was so protective.

Oh, did she love it.

Those eyes that burned and beseeched her with such adoration. His tall, warm body to rest against. Firm arms that held her so tightly yet so gently.

And his non-stop rambling about further uses for the sticky green gel, and the lacking in moral conduct befitting of chief heirs, and the beautiful freckle he'd just discovered beneath her eye.

Until she just had to reach up to shut him up.

There were better uses for the most perfect lips in the archipelago.

* * *

iv.

Astrid thought she was beyond being surprised by the things Hiccup did. Really, she should have been used it by now.

Arne Oakshield wasn't a bad dance partner – at least initially. He was gentle, courteous, and wisely kept his hands under check. Unfortunately, he had a whinge that rivaled the Thorstons put together, having spent the last four tunes rambling about his late mother, or girlfriend, or some other woman who'd ruptured his heart (Astrid had zoned out twelve minutes ago, but not enough to miss Toothless' plasma blast that softly pierced the night).

The purple gust snuffed the torches and the courtyard went black. Then a few things happened at once: the lutes stopped playing; the brief silence was drowned by gasps and fervent whispering; someone tripped into someone else who cried out; and Arne let go of Astrid in surprise.

Suddenly she found herself in the arms of Hiccup Haddock, his hands tight around her waist, his face snug in her hair. Astrid let her own arms wrap around him – truly, that was their favorite place to be.

"What was all _that_ about?" she whispered into his chest, wanting nothing more than to stay in the moment.

Warm breath tickled her hair. "Figured you wanted to _dance,_ not listen to some miserable old sod pining over his yak."

"His _yak?"_

"I rest my case."

They both laughed, his heart drumming pleasantly against her cheek. "Only one problem, Hiccup. There's nothing to dance to."

"Fair point, milady." Astrid could practically feel his smirk in the darkness. "Hey, Toothless?"

The Night Fury spittled and one by one the torches and chords came alive again.

No one seemed to notice what had really happened, except for Fishlegs and Heather who smirked at the couple before returning to their own dance, and Arne, who threw a loathsome scowl at Hiccup's hands resting where his were moments ago.

To Astrid's amusement, Toothless gave him a threatening scowl in return and he skulked off without so much as another glance.

With a surprising show of strength, Hiccup lifted her onto his feet (right foot and prototype boot-shaped leg he'd recently fashioned for dancing), and she nuzzled her nose into his neck, closing her eyes in the lull of his pulse.

For a few precious hours they could solely be each other's, shut out the world again.

And for a few precious hours that's exactly what they did.

* * *

v.

It was a widespread rumor across the archipelago (slightly exaggerated, of course) that one simply did not dance with Astrid Hofferson of the Hooligan tribe of Berk unless they wished to meet an early demise.

So when young Earl Torstein of the Visithugs saw Chief Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III approaching, he all but shoved the shieldmaiden into her betrothed's arms, gave an effeminate shriek and scrambled from the courtyard.

"What did you _do?"_ Astrid asked, gaping incredulously after the man. (He'd just reached the pinnacle of his story where he'd lost his ear to a twenty-foot Scauldron – a tale she'd been quite enjoying, admittedly.)

Hiccup shook his head, bemused. "I just looked at him."

"And what did _he_ do to warrant your wrathful commination, Chief?"

"I need a reason now?"

Astrid rolled her eyes, beam winning over as she slid her arms around his neck. "Would it matter if I said yes?"

"Probably not," he chuckled, catching her lips with his.

She kissed him back ravenously. He was right – though _probably not_ was an understatement. Here were all the things that mattered:

Hiccup's smile.

Hiccup's laugh.

Hiccup's lips melting into her own.

Fortunately that was the full list, because next thing Astrid knew they were both dowsed head to foot in a cold wet substance.

Pulling apart breathlessly and dripping in the glow of Flightmare algae, they glanced around to meet a snickering pair of Thorstons with luminesce buckets in their hands.

"You'd forgotten to breathe, Chief," Tuff smirked at their leader's glower.

Ruff sniggered, gesturing to their gaping audience. "That, and we thought we'd finally set things straight for everyone else."

Astrid considered their interruptors, then their onlookers, then looked back up at her betrothed who wore a goading smirk of his own as he brushed wet bangs from her eye. Irritation fading, she trailed her hands through his wild, russet locks and passionately pulled his lips back to where they belonged, grinning at the knowing of being his alone.

They glowed like a beacon among torches the rest of the night, the lute tunes chasing the melodies of their heartbeats.

* * *

vi.

Hiccup stared at her with that goofy, besotted grin on his face. He stared at her like it was the only thing he wanted to do all day.

Astrid grinned back, unable to stop the unequivocally delightful shiver that ran up her spine at knowing that this man was her husband.

She smiled ecstatically and twirled, beaming when she caught her father's smile and applause. She'd enjoyed their dance (even though he had two left feet, both of which lacked a little limp). But when he'd passed her over to Hiccup's arms with a tear and twinkle in his eye and she had stepped into the enrapturing, mesmerizing dance of bride and groom, she had never felt more fulfilled.

The snow drifted down, planting cool little kisses on their cheeks. Astrid's beam widened, her mind drifting to the hot, passionate kisses they would share when wholly and entirely relishing in each other at last; in the intertwining of their being tonight.

The combination had both an exhilarating and soporific effect on her. And as she tucked her head under Hiccup's chin and felt him pull her as close as humanly possible, she contemplated just how much she loved this man.

How much she loved his arms around her, how she would love them to remain there in perpetuity, how he would steal her, the crazy things he'd do to hold her.

And the dancing – gods, she loved the dancing.


End file.
